


leaning in the wrong direction

by paravin



Series: less fight, more spark [4]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Breathplay, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:21:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29929212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paravin/pseuds/paravin
Summary: Despite being on an unexplored moon, Uldren and Jolyon find familiar territory.
Relationships: Uldren Sov/Jolyon Till the Rachis
Series: less fight, more spark [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2194056
Comments: 21
Kudos: 42





	leaning in the wrong direction

**Author's Note:**

> trying something new, I guess? set pre-Black Garden.
> 
> also sorry for spamming the tag lately, I will stop for a bit after this one.

“It would be nice if you had fewer near-death experiences,” Jolyon says. “Ideally at least fifty percent fewer.”

Uldren laughs beneath him. A fresh trickle of blood escapes from the wound Jolyon is currently stitching closed.

“Where would the fun be in that?” The only hint of pain is in the tension of his shoulders; his eyes are bright with excitement. “It’s not as though it won’t heal.”

Jolyon, who has seen more scars on the prince’s body than he cares to count, tries again. “Thirty percent fewer?”

“Oh, so this is a negotiation?” Uldren folds one arm under his head and looks up at Jolyon expectantly. “What do I get in return?”

Well accustomed to the weight of Uldren’s expectations, Jolyon shrugs off the scrutiny and keeps stitching. The wound isn’t too bad, a long slice along Uldren’s ribs courtesy of some kind of sand worm lurking on the moon they’re currently exploring, and he reaches for a dressing as he finishes the sutures. With any luck, this one won’t scar.

Uldren hisses out a breath through his teeth when Jolyon slaps the cytogel patch into place. The wince soon slides into a cocky grin, which Jolyon ignores. 

(He’s managed to go centuries without thinking too hard about Uldren’s relationship with pain; he doesn’t intend to start now.)

“Well?” Uldren prompts. It’s times like this he’s more magpie than crow, fixating on something shiny — an adventure, a promise, a potential threat — and needling until he gets his prize. “This isn’t much of a negotiation if I’m coming out empty-handed, Jol.”

“There’s something in this for you,” Jolyon promises. “Something valuable.”

Planting one hand beside Uldren’s head, he leans down. A strand of hair falls free to brush Uldren’s cheek and Uldren’s eyes linger on Jolyon’s lips. “I like valuable.”

“I know.” Jolyon’s nose almost brushes Uldren’s as he narrows the gap between them, and he holds Uldren’s gaze. “In return, you get the wonderful reward of _not dying_.”

He pulls back, grinning as Uldren groans. 

“The noble, steadfast Jolyon Till,” Uldren says, dramatic as ever, “taunting a wounded man.” He puts a hand to his heart. “Such cruelty…”

Jolyon laughs as he packs away the medkit. “You’re always wounded.”

“And yet you always tease me,” Uldren counters, but he’s smiling again. “I feel like that’s some kind of crime.”

“Maybe it is,” Jolyon says, pushing himself to his feet. “Tell you what, I’ll turn myself in to your sister. Get assigned some menial patrol as penance for my cruelty, while you find someone else to stop you getting eaten by aliens.”

The cycle is slow here, the sun hanging low for hours above the dark sand and darker rock, but the dim light is enough for Jolyon to locate their sleepsacks in the underhold of his ship. Uldren doesn’t move from where he’s sprawled across the blankets, staring out across the crystal-black dunes, and warmth spreads through Jolyon’s chest as the sunset paints Uldren’s skin in violet hues. 

“You’d hate patrols, Jol,” Uldren says absently. “Treading the same path over and over, when you could be out here charting new ones.”

Jolyon doesn’t correct him. They both know that he _wouldn’t_ hate patrols, that he would be perfectly happy with a normal, safe routine in a normal, safe place. Of the two of them, Uldren is the one who lives for the unknown; Jolyon’s just the fool who lives for Uldren.

Uldren stretches his arms above his head with a yawn as Jolyon tosses an open sleepsack on top of him, then pouts when, predictably, the movement tugs on his injury. “Ow.”

“I always knew Mara was the smart twin,” Jolyon teases. He’s shed the top layer of his armor already but doesn’t bother to change out of his undershirt and pants as he crawls down beside Uldren. “You can track mysterious power sources across untouched worlds, yet you can’t keep from tearing your stitches.”

Uldren’s smile is unrepentant. Between the Hive and the Cabal, Jolyon’s heard of people wanting to spill blood on every world across the system; Uldren is just the only person who seems determined to spill his own. 

“That’s why I have you,” Uldren says. His body is warm against Jolyon’s flank as he shifts beneath the bedding. “You didn’t think I brought you along for no reason, did you, Jol?”

His hand curves around Jolyon’s hip and Jolyon shakes his head, smiling. “You’re incorrigible.”

Uldren blinks at him. “What? You’re an excellent shot. I need a reliable sniper at my side.”

Jolyon sighs. Uldren has many gifts but feigning innocence isn’t one of them. “You’re injured.”

“It’s a scratch.”

“From a giant sand worm that nearly ate you.”

“ _Nearly_ being the operative word.” Uldren’s hand inches lower, squeezing his thigh. “It’s been a while since we found somewhere peaceful…”

“Again,” Jolyon says, “I have to mention the giant sand worms.”

He recognises the spark of mischief in Uldren’s eyes and puts a finger to his lips before the comment can come. “Uldren, if you make a dick joke about the worms, I am sleeping in the ship.”

Uldren laughs. He’s always happiest like this, carving his own path on the frontier and testing the slack in his tether. He’d deny it if Jolyon asked, of course, would swear his heart lies at his sister’s feet, but Jolyon’s been around long enough to trust his own eyes more than the assurances of the Sovs.

Uldren doesn’t try to speak now though. His lips move beneath Jolyon’s finger, planting a quick kiss against the pad of it before raising his chin slightly. Jolyon’s breath catches as his finger slips between Uldren’s parted lips, and despite the stress of the day, heat stirs when Uldren’s cheeks hollow out around him.

He crooks his finger behind Uldren’s teeth, fitting his thumb neatly beneath the point of his chin, and uses the grip to push his head back a little. 

Uldren bites down, blunt and reflexive, but he doesn’t resist as Jolyon pushes further until the bite loosens and Uldren exhales softly against him.

“You’re injured,” he says again. His finger slips free from his mouth but his hand curls around Uldren’s throat instead. “We should rest.”

“We should,” Uldren agrees, calm and sensible, although the glint in his eyes is anything but. 

His hand moves to the front of Jolyon’s pants, stroking gently through the fabric, and he shifts onto his back in what Jolyon recognises as an invitation. 

They’ve done this so many times before. Jolyon knows Uldren’s heartbeat as well as his own at this point, knows the way he leans into smug arrogance when he wants it rough and the way he melts under Jolyon’s hands when he’s seeking slow tenderness. 

They’re both too tired for either tonight, and so Jolyon keeps his touch light even as he rolls on top of Uldren. 

Their legs slot together, Jolyon taking his weight on his knees and one elbow to avoid aggravating Uldren’s wound any more than necessary. He pushes one knee up between Uldren’s thighs, smiling at the way Uldren’s lips part around a gasp, and he strokes his thumb over his jaw as Uldren fumbles to work both their belts free.

It’s absolutely no surprise to find Uldren’s hard already. His enthusiasm for sex is the only thing that possibly comes close to his enthusiasm for risking his life, but Jolyon is far happier to indulge the former as he grinds his hips down against Uldren. 

“See?” Uldren teases. His hand is warm where it encircles Jolyon’s dick, and Jolyon groans at the nudge of Uldren’s cock alongside his own. “I told you I brought you for a reason.”

Jolyon smiles in spite of himself. He shifts his knees, adjusting his balance as Uldren’s deft fingers skim along both of their dicks at once, and he grips Uldren’s jaw a little tighter as he mutters, “I’m flattered, _Your Highness_.”

He holds him there, just long enough for Uldren to try to turn his head away and realise he can’t. He bites his lip, gold eyes shining at the restriction, and Jolyon leans down to steal a kiss from him as Uldren strokes him faster. 

Their intimacy takes various forms during the day — code tapped against ankles, blood washed from skin, fingers lacing up armor — but it’s rare that Jolyon gets to show affection as freely as he would like. Here, together, is a different story though, with Uldren offering himself up for any and all attention Jolyon is willing to bestow, and Jolyon is glad to take advantage of it as he licks the moans from Uldren’s lips.

Uldren’s hand stutters when Jolyon’s grip shifts back to his throat. He whines into the kiss, tongue curling against Jolyon’s in a demand even as he bares his neck in submission, and Jolyon squeezes just hard enough to feel Uldren shiver. 

It’s not life-threatening, not even close, but as expected, even the faintest hint of danger is enough to make Uldren arch beneath him. 

Uldren’s breath comes quick and shallow as Jolyon kisses along his jaw. His hand slows on Jolyon’s cock, purposefully teasing, and Jolyon fixes him with a firm stare. “No.”

Once again, Uldren fails to look innocent. “What?”

“That trick isn’t going to work today,” Jolyon says. He squeezes his throat tighter to make his point and Uldren’s eyes flutter closed for a moment. “Be good, Your Highness. You’re wounded, remember?”

“I’m always wounded,” Uldren says, batting Jolyon’s own words back at him, but his pulse thrums happily beneath Jolyon’s fingertips as he complies and jerks him faster.

Jolyon’s a little embarrassed at how close he is already. He fucks forward into the circle of Uldren’s fist and lets Uldren’s mouth muffle his groans as he coaxes him in for another deep kiss. Uldren takes it eagerly, thighs splaying wider beneath Jolyon as he cants his hips up in search of friction, and their foreheads rest together when they both break for air. 

He only allows Uldren a quick lungful before his hand tightens again. Uldren’s eyes shine with pleasure-panic, one hand gripping Jolyon’s wrist even as the other works his dick with helpless urgency, and Jolyon’s hips snap forward as he lets himself fall. 

He spills hot over Uldren’s fist, come smearing over his shirt and Uldren’s stomach, and he hears Uldren gasp for breath when his hand goes lax around his neck. He can’t pinpoint the second he comes, doesn’t know whether it’s the restriction or the release which sends him over the edge, but he crushes their lips together in a messy kiss as Uldren shudders through the high beneath him. 

Jolyon’s lightheaded as he rolls off him. 

It’s more of a slump if he’s honest, collapsing to his half of the makeshift bed, and he stares up at the sky in a daze until Uldren links their fingers together to bring him back down to earth. 

Their breathing settles in time. The silence of the unnamed moon stretches out around them, new ground under old stars, but Jolyon’s mind is drawn back to the well-mapped galaxy of Uldren’s skin.

The words come to Jolyon’s lips before he even understands their meaning. “Do you think you’ll ever run out?”

Uldren’s almost too tired to smirk but he makes an attempt anyway. “What, of stamina? Unlikely.”

Jolyon rolls his eyes and knocks their elbows together. Their hands stay entwined. “Of places to go,” he says. “New territories to explore. We’ve lived for centuries already; what happens when you’ve seen everything?”

Silence is rare with Uldren, and Jolyon looks over at him when it drags on for too long.

“We settle, I suppose,” Uldren says. “Focus on the threats closer to home.” He flashes Jolyon a grin. “Go on boring patrols.”

Jolyon looks back up at the sky. Just the thought of it makes his heart soar but while he appreciates the kindness of the lie, he isn’t foolish enough to believe it. 

Uldren will never settle. He lives to test himself and to please his sister, and while Jolyon truly hopes that some day Uldren will accomplish enough to satisfy himself, Mara is a different story. One that will never end cleanly.

Uldren’s head comes to rest against his shoulder and Jolyon swallows down the guilty lump in his throat as he kisses the top of his head. None of this is new — he’s watched the slow tragedy of the Sovs for centuries now — but with every day ( _month, year, decade_ ) he spends with Uldren, it gets harder to face.

Uldren has already lived through far more than he should. One day he’ll go too far, dash himself to pieces in a way that can’t be mended by sutures and cytogel, as much as Jolyon will try.

However, until then, just as he always has, Jolyon will follow.


End file.
